


Birds of a Feather

by what_about_the_fish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angel's are real, M/M, Mechanic Dean, More tags to be added, No mpreg, Soulmates, True Mates, Wingfic, author is making it up as she goes along, soulbond, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-11-28 20:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11425947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_about_the_fish/pseuds/what_about_the_fish
Summary: Who knew that a man and an angel could have such a profound bond.  Certainly no one had bothered to let Dean know.  To Dean Winchester, angels were feathered dicks with no redeeming features.  But when it comes to a certain blue eyed angel we all know things don't go the way Dean wants them to.Follow the mishaps and mayhem of two souls becoming one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this forever, and I know I have a million WIPs and i'm dabbling in the Hannibal fandom (come join me!!) I have a to set this one free. This is unbeta'd and i'm keeping it low key and casual to make sure my muse doesn't freak out and leave me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy xo
> 
> EDIT
> 
> Now beta read by the wonderful [Maya Aodhan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan) Big thanks go to her for digging me out of a hole that was chapter 2!!! Maya is a writer also, so please check out their stuff!!

Dean was bone tired and frankly he’d had enough of today. 

He’d made it home to his cozy apartment in record time. Ok, so maybe he’d been a bit heavy on the gas and ignored a few speed limits, but it was a matter of sanity. As soon as he got in the door he shucked off his dirty work clothes and walked through to the bathroom. 

First order of business: he was going to draw himself a bath and soak away the bullshit of the day.

 

He got the water going at the right temperature and poured in some new bath salts- all part of the ritual. “Personal care is very important and manly as hell thank you very much!” he explained aloud to the empty bathroom. As the big tub filled he sauntered back out to the kitchen to grab himself a beer. 

 

Absently, he picked up the remote for the TV and flicked it on, more for background noise than anything else, but as he started to walk back towards the bathroom something in his peripheral vision caused him to pause.

 

When he turned his focus to the television a current affair news program was showing. The female host was done up in a garish yellow suit, hair meticulously crafted into a French roll on the top of her head, and a ridiculous amount of makeup smeared across her face. Dean shrugged it off, these shows were definitely not his cup of tea, but then, just as he started to move, the screen flashed to another view and he was compelled to watch.

 

The scene wasn’t particularly unusual, just a group of angels being interviewed about their ‘new empire’, a big business merger or something equally mundane. The group were a family corporation, the Novak’s of Halo Emporium. Dean thought he’d heard of them before- perhaps he’d read something in the paper about the new up and coming stars in the angel architectural industry, making big business off the sudden influx of angels coming to America.

 

What had struck Dean was neither what was being talked about, nor anyone participating in the conversation, but the lonesome figure seated to the back of the clan. His hands were clasped tight in his lap, his brow wrinkled in thought and his gaze steadfastly locked to the floor. 

 

Dean had seen plenty of angels before. In fact he’d had the _pleasure_ of meeting a few through his work at the garage, and frankly, he could do without dealing with another one ever again. However, this one captivated him. 

 

There was nothing of significance to this angel as far as Dean could tell, outwardly he was handsome, dark messy hair, high cheekbones and full lips, his eyes shielded from view by his stoic posturing to the floor. He was dressed in a well-cut suit, obviously hand tailored and probably costing at least six months of Dean’s rent. His wings were a deep dark navy blue, almost black where the light didn’t reach. They seemed dull though, their posture held low on his shoulders. 

 

Dean knew from experience that those wings would be shining in person; something about them, _their grace,_ he thought, just didn’t translate through the airwaves.

 

It wasn’t his appearance that had Dean captivated- willing the angel to look up, look around, _god_ , just to get a glimpse of his eyes, if only for a second- something else altogether had Dean in a kind of rapture. Then the camera angle moved and his angel was gone. _His angel? Did he really just think that? What was he doing?_ He looked down and the beer that had been in his hand a moment ago now lay on the floor, its contents leaking across the carpet in an ever widening puddle. He swore under his breath, and rushed to grab a towel from the linen closet. That’s when he saw the water that flooded out of the bathroom and into the hall.

 

“Son of a Bitch!” The realization he had not only ruined the carpet but also flooded the bathroom hit him all at once, and he turned and punched the nearest surface, putting a dent into the bedroom door.

 

“Goddammit, Winchester, pull yourself together, before this day gets any worse!” Dean snapped himself out of his rage and into fix-it mode. He turned the faucets off, grabbed a mop and lay down towels. When everything was as good as it was going to get tonight, he snatched a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet- only the hard stuff was going to fix this evening- and settled into the bath, allowing his limbs to slowly relax and let go of the tension from the day.

 

A quarter of the whiskey already gone, Dean sat up in the bath with a start, sloshing water over the edge in his haste. “What the actual fuck!” The incident with the television coming back to him… He’d totally zoned out to an angel. _What had gotten into him?_

 

Looking back, it was as if the whole world had stopped, nothing but the angel had existed in that moment; that thought sent a shiver down his spine. and directed the blood rushing from his brain to his dick faster than a teenager hitting second base.

 

The sensations overwhelmed him momentarily before his brain caught up. He’d never once been attracted to an angel. Sure, they were usually pretty stunning, but as soon as they opened their mouths and started talking, exuding arrogance and pomp, well, they could have been Harrison Ford and he still wouldn’t have touched them with a ten foot pole.

 

However, the lust was still building inside him. After the day he’d had, a little self-care wouldn’t go astray, but he absolutely wouldn’t think of the angel with sex hair and cock sucking lips while he touched himself. Nope, no way, no how, not happening. 

 

He clutched himself with a loose fist, starting slowly, pumping up and down. Twisting his hand a little on the way up and running his thumb over the head on the descent, he closed his eyes letting out a sigh and there he was, _his angel_ finally moving his head, brow still furrowed, a tongue sneaking out to wet his lips and look into Dean’s eyes with the most startling blue stare he’d ever seen. He came hard the moment those eyes caught his gaze, and right then Dean didn’t have it in him to care. 

 

Lying back, limbs loose and heavy, he sunk deeper into the bath to dunk his head under the water. Coming up for air and shaking the drips from his head, he thought, _What has gotten into you Winchester?_

As the post orgasmic haze started to wear off, the tiredness came back with a vengeance. On that note, he got himself out of the bath, toweled himself off, and wearily wandered to his bedroom, where he collapsed on the bed, and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

 

Morning came with a harsh reality the alarm buzzing in his ear, and the light pouring in through the open window. Dean woke up twisted in blankets and swearing at the light as he tried to pry his eyes open. To top it all off he had one killer hangover, drinking on an empty stomach will do that he supposed.

 

Scrambling out of bed and straight into the shower before he could roll over and sleep out the rest of his headache. As much as the shitfight that was yesterday would warrant taking a mental health day, he just couldn’t let the others down. Damn his good work ethic in the ass.

 

The shower did little to soothe his pounding head, as he scrubbed himself with his organic loofah brush, _exfoliation is important to maintain youthful looking skin thank you very much._ He noticed himself going to town on his back, the skin felt irritated, simultaneously hot and cold. He must have a wicked patch of dry skin there- he’d have to invest in one of those sponges the ones that help you moisturize your own back.

 

Once cleaned and dried Dean tried to turn himself inside out to see the skin on his back, there was a slight reddening, probably from his vigorous scrubbing. So with a promise to stop by the drugstore on the way home he finished up his bathroom regime, moisturizing and spritzing everything in sight.

 

Dressed in his work clothes and a hasty breakfast settling heavy in his stomach, Dean was on his way to work in no time, his head pounding only slightly less than before. All events of the past evening were pushed aside as he drew nearer to work. Every part of his being just didn’t want to be here today. He was just hoping that it would be better than yesterday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now beta read by the wonderful [Maya Aodhan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan) Big thanks go to her for digging me out of the hole that was chapter 2!!! Maya is a writer also, so please check out their stuff!!

Singer’s Auto, Dean’s second home and place of work was run by Bobby Singer. The man that practically raised Dean and his brother and was about to give him the reaming of a lifetime. He took a deep breath before exiting the car and heading into the office, to face his surly looking boss. 

 

“What the hell kinda shit storm happened yesterday?” Bobby shouted at him as soon as he walked through the door.

 

_Great, today is off to a fine start_.

 

“I get in to find Charlie talking ‘bout quittin’, Garth is walking on eggshells, skittier than a colt, and then you walk in here.” Bobby points his finger at Dean, his eyes appraising him critically. “And don’t tell me otherwise, you are hungover as hell. No, don’t give me that look, Dean Winchester. I’ve been witness to your hangovers since you were too young to have ‘em!” Bobby’s foul mood left Dean no place to run, except Dean being Dean he had to push his luck. 

 

“Geez, let me get in the door would ya?” He scowled. He hadn’t even had coffee yet, this was all happening too fast.

 

“Boy, don’t you sass me! Now come on spill, I need to know what happened so I can fix this mess.” 

 

Dean took a seat across from the reception desk, eyes staunchly fixed to the ground, and he started to explain. “Look it’s not really that big of a deal, it was just a bad day. Followed by a fucking dick of a customer then one mistake after another.” Dean took a deep breath- so maybe it was kinda a big deal.

 

“Ok, so you know that Pontiac with the faulty crankshaft that’s been a bitch to fix? 

Bobby nodded. 

“Well the owner, an angel with a massive rod up his ass, started calling every hour on the hour, giving Charlie an earful about how he was an important man, and he needed his car, and how _we_ were just being slack because we were humanist rednecks with no respect for his angelic ass.” The longer Dean spoke the tighter the muscles in his neck got. “Charlie was in a state, she was just done with his shit, and refused to take anymore of his calls. So the guy comes in, see, and, well maybe I was not as polite as I could have been but dammit, Bobby, you should have heard the shit that was pouring out of this guy’s mouth. Man it was just obnoxious bullshit. He wouldn’t hear anything I was saying. He was flinging insults at everyone. I mean, I could take it if it was just me but then he called Charlie a good for nothing whore of a human shit-stain, and ...” Dean’s face got redder and his heart rate rose as the anger from yesterday poured back through his veins with a vengeance.

 

Dean looked over to Bobby, whose face had softened somewhat, and he took a deep breath. “So I told the Feather Duster that he could take his business elsewhere and that we would tow his piece of shit car there, but we would not have him back on the property ever again.”

 

Bobby’s anger had simmered down, and now he had shifted to cleanup duty. “Alright, son. Look that could have gone down better but I’m glad you made that decision. Charlie will simmer down soon I’m sure, she’s got a bruised ego is all.” Dean nodded, he knew the fiesty redhead would be her bouncy self in no time, “So that only leaves Garth. What the hell did the fool do this time?” 

Bobby’s shoulders shrunk in resignation for what he was about to hear. He loved Garth as a son. He was a good hearted boy, but god help him, he just didn’t connect his brain to his limbs sometimes and, well, he could be more trouble than he was worth. Not that Bobby would ever get rid of him, in fact he’d been thinking of moving him to paint work. 

 

Dean sighed. “I got Garth to fix the car to the tow truck, while I fixed up the paperwork and spoke to the boys at Auto World to see if they could take the car. When I heard the most horrifying sound of my life. Bobby, the kid, he fixed the tow cable to the wrong part of the chassis and the whole fucking underside of the car came off. I kid you not, he tore the fucking thing in two.”

 

Dean shook his head, and Bobby swore under his breath. “Idjit.”

 

“So yeah, I might have lost my cool at that point. But right now we have an angry dick of an angel and a car that’s going to be easier to replace than fix. So sue me if I went home and drank myself into a stupor!”

 

“Son, I can’t blame you there. Look I’ll sort this out, and maybe stay out of Garth’s way today. Go work on the Lincoln for me, she’s almost ready to go home. What we need right now is a finished project.” Bobby came over and patted Dean on the shoulder then walked back to his office muttering under his breath.

 

With a sigh of relief Dean walked back to the staff room, changed into his overalls and started work on the Lincoln. 

\---------------

 

The itching started just before lunch. 

Dean rubbed his back against any available surface. It was the kind of itch that couldn’t be satisfied though while he was rubbing it, it felt almost orgasmic; both pleasure and pain surging through his body. It was almost orgasmic, the scratching of a mosquito bite that was so good, and so regretful, all at once.

 

He was using the doorframe of the staff room to scratch when Charlie sauntered in immediately breaking into a hearty belly laugh. “Well hello, Boo Boo are we gonna have a pic-a-nic for lunch today?” . Dean scowled at her, the comparison to a cartoon bear leaving him prickly.

 

“Dude, quit it. This is serious! I think I’ve had a reaction to my new bath salts. I’ve got a rash or something. Dammit. The itch is driving me crazy!” Dean bit back.

 

“Ok. Firstly, Bath salts? Really, Dean Winchester, king of all that is manly, uses bath salts? You don’t think I was going to miss that little tidbit did you?” Charlie was shot him a knowing grin, “Secondly let me take a look, maybe you need some cream or something but all that itching sure isn’t gonna help.” She was never one to pass up teasing if the opportunity arose but Charlie was a good friend so Dean let it pass and slipped his overalls around his waist and hiked his shirt over his shoulders.

 

“Dude, this is red as all heck. Eww. I don’t think it’s a rash though, maybe a graze? Here, let me take a picture so you can see.” Charlie reached for her phone and took a snap of Dean’s back.

 

He snatched the camera from her hands and looked, confusion knitting his brow. The picture showed two grazes red and raw, moving down in a line from between his shoulder blades to about halfway down his back. The scratches didn’t really make sense, all he’d done was loofah this morning, and then he’d been scratching through two thick layers of clothing today.

 

Charlie grabbed some antiseptic ointment and gauze from the first aid kit. “This should make sure it doesn’t get infected. But seriously lay off the itching, you’re just making it worse.” 

 

Charlie went to smother the cream on but Dean flinched as soon as her hand got close. The heat from her skin was all that warned him, however the revulsion and nausea that pulsed through his body was so strong he could only whip around and pull his shirt down. He stared at Charlie while she stared back before she said, “What gives, Winchester?”

Dean shuddered and shook off the awful feeling. “I dunno, man? I wimped out alright? I’ll go see a doctor if it gets worst.”

Charlie seemed to be ok with this answer, no matter how out of character it was for Dean to both wimp out or see a doctor about anything. Anyhow Charlie nodded and left Dean to his lunch.

 

An hour later the itching hadn’t even started to die down, and now, with the knowledge of the damage on his back, Dean couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , succumb to the urge to scratch. Instead he threw himself into his work, single mindedly operating with determination and concentration. To his own surprise it only took another hour to finish up. He grabbed a rag to wipe his hands, and walked into the reception to let Charlie know she could call the owner.

 

As soon as he entered though, he froze, anger searing through his veins. The asshole angel from yesterday was walking in the front door.

 

“What are you doing here?” He barked with a gruff voice.

 

The angel looked at Dean. “The other garage told me of the acci…” The angel stopped mid sentence and looked quizzically at Dean. He made to move closer but the Dean put up his hand.

 

“Look here, _buddy_ ,I already told you, you’re not welcome here. Now, what happened yesterday was an unfortunate event, but as the other garage has no doubt already told you, we are happy to foot the bill or replace the car for you.” Dean tried his best to find his level stern voice, but the other angel was looking at him so strangely that he couldn’t help the feeling of unease that was spreading through him.

 

“You smell different.” The angel mused almost to himself. 

 

“Aaand _that’s_ not creepy as fuck.” Charlie chimed in. The angel snapped his gaze away from Dean to look at the redhead.

 

“Whatever. This is none of my concern. I just wanted to tell you my lawyers will be contacting you very soon. I want to speak to whoever runs this pitiful excuse of a business right this instant.” 

 

Charlie called Bobby, and the two of them went into his office. The voices seemed to rise in volume from behind closed doors.

 

Dean just stood there half zoned out, maybe he’d worked a little too hard this afternoon. Charlie broke him out of his thoughts, when she came up behind him and made him jump half out of his skin. “What a weirdo, on top of being a douchebag! _You smell different…_ And the creeper of the year award goes to feather head in there!” Charlie snarked. 

 

Dean had to agree. _What the fuck had just happened?_ _Angels were so weird. I wonder if mine is just as strange?_ He thought. 

 

“Fuck!” Dean exclaimed out loud. Charlie just shot him a weird look. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but really, _the fuck was going on? His angel? Nope not happening._ Dean sighed loudly and shook his head.

 

“Listen, Charlie, I’m not feeling the best. The Lincoln’s all done, so you can go ahead and let the client know they can pick it up at anytime. Can you let Bobby know when he’s finished up that I’ve left? He’s not gonna be happy, but I’ve just gotta get out of here.” Dean rushed, his words spilling out. He really was feeling a bit strange, and he _really_ didn’t want to see the angel in Bobby’s office again.

 

Charlie just nodded, reminding him to see the doctor on the way home, and gave him a quick hug before he headed for the staff room to grab his things and get the hell outta here.

 

Settled in his car and on the road, Dean allowed himself to relax, but the odd feeling inside of him refused to go away. He just wanted to be home, in the comfort of his bed… the pull was almost too much as he pushed his foot to the accelerator and sped the rest of the way. 

 

He would deal with the mess on his back later, he couldn’t go to the doctors in the state he was fast working himself into.

 

Once home, he walked through his apartment in a daze straight to his room. He stood at the foot of the bed and looked down to his hands, he was holding the comforter from the back of the lounge and a couple of throw pillows. He hadn’t even realized he’d picked them up. _What the hell was going on with him_?

 

He tossed them on the bed, (since he had them he may as well use them). Stripped down to his briefs and started to arrange the pillows and blankets just so. He felt incredibly comforted as he lost himself in the moment. 

 

He came back to himself when he walked back into his room an armful of spare pillows and blankets clutched tightly in his grasp.

 

His mind felt as though it was floating through water, too sluggish to catch up with absurdity of his actions. He continued to arrange his collection of textiles on the bed and promptly burrowed head-first into it and fell asleep.

 

Dean woke with a start, the apartment was dark as he looked around. He was twisted up in several blankets,surrounded by pillows on all sides. He reached for the bedside lamp, and blinked furiously as his eyes became accustomed to the harsh light. The alarm clock flashed its neon time at him. 10.03 pm. He’d slept for several hours then. 

 

His bladder was weighing heavily on him and he shifted the layers of blankets aside and slipped out of the bed. A couple of feathers were stirred up by his movement and drifted to the floor, unnoticed by Dean as he went to the bathroom and relieved himself.

 

He drifted back to his bedroom in a daze and burrowed back under his blankets. Dean closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh as he arranged his limbs amongst the piles of pillows. He was coddled on all sides, enveloped by the familiar smell of home, he could even smell his brother on something, but as quickly as the thought came to him it left. The feeling of contentment and safety surrounded him again and quickly he fell into a deep sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here finally!! I am so sorry for the long wait, and this is a bit of a shorter chapter but I didn't want you all to wait any longer than you already have.  
> life has been kicking me in the butt, lots of things going on and then I got the flu. anyho hopefully i'll be able to make this all happen a bit quicker from now on. I've plotted the fic to about 15 chapters so fingers crossed!
> 
> So... this has taken a turn for the A/B/O. it won't be traditional, rather more suited to our angels. No butt babies, but i'm considering heats because... hot hormonal sex that's why!
> 
> hope you enjoy xo

To say Castiel hated the media was putting it lightly. The damn intrusion of it all put Castiel on edge in a heartbeat, the whole thing was just a show for the humans and Castiel didn’t believe he needed to be any part of it. His family on the other hand, well, they seemed to come to life in the limelight. Some… a little too much, but that’s another story. For now Halo Emporium was in the media day and night. With the influx of angel’s coming into America, their wave of ‘new’ money and their rather individual needs when it came to living conditions, the flagship angel architecture firm was on the rise.

The Novak’s, who ran the family business, were mostly cutthroat in their approach to everything, and the media was no different. Lucifer Novak, CEO was currently speaking to the perky interviewer about why angel adjustable living was the rave in home interiors, and why it wasn’t just angels that could benefit from what they had to offer. 

The whole family was in attendance, as was protocol, they had to seem _relatable_ or so Naomi Novak, head of public relations let the family know. Castiel ran finance, where he was happy to be alone with the numbers. Numbers couldn’t lie, they couldn’t trick you, they were safe and in this new world with so much that Castiel just didn’t understand he took great sanctuary in his job.

He was currently tuning out the interview, trying to work out a particularly curly maths problem he’d found on the internet (for precisely this situation), when the strangest feeling trickled through him. His wings started to bristle with little bolts of electricity running through them and over them from tips to base and down his spine. It was a visceral feeling that brought heat to his cheeks. His brother Gabriel who sat beside him turned and gave him a lascivious wink, setting Castiel completely on edge and making his cheek burn even hotter.

Castiel discreetly stretched his wings trying to shake out the oddness he was experiencing, in doing so he managed to fan a heavy scent of alpha dominance amongst his family. Right now would be a great time for the floor to open and swallow him whole. His uncle Raphael turned around in his chair a look of disgust on his face, and the angel knew this was not going to be the last he heard of it. Raphael was head of security and worked closely with Naomi in keeping their clan out of trouble and looking perfect for the human population.

Castiel was lucky that humans had a such terrible sense of smell, he honestly had no idea how they managed to get anywhere without the heightened sense. Figuring other people out was hard enough already, and with no wings or scent to go on, well Castiel was left rather baffled by the species. 

The interview seemed to drag on, but his unusual predicament was fast moving through the clan and leaving its effect on members of his family. Castiel could see the defensive ruffle of feathers along the bridge of the alphas wings, and the omegas amongst the clan kept fighting the urge to wrap themselves in a protective wing shield. Regardless of family status, a alpha display could still affect those not intended for the attention somewhat dramatically.

Castiel was going to get into so much trouble. What was worse, he couldn’t stop it, and if he was being honest he didn’t want to. Stretching out his wings and exuding his true power for once was liberating and the fact he was on national television in front of his family and strangers seemed less and less of an issue the longer it continued.

His wake up call came in the form of a strong firm hand slapping him across the face. His wings had taken up a full arc being held high above his head, and he could feel his glands pulsating helping his scent consume his mate. _His mate?_

“Castiel! I don’t know what you are up to with this outlandish display but you can cut it out right now!”

Naomi was standing over him, Raphael closely shadowing her. They both held their wings out, shielding their confrontation from prying eyes. The set was dark now, and there was no noise going on around them. _The family and crew must have left already._ He thought, baffled by the apparent jump in time. 

Castiel immediately withdrew his wings, holding them down and low and bowing his head in submission. Words were not always needed between angels, and now was a perfect time to let his wings do the talking. He doubled himself over in his chair allowing the two angels before him to flatten a wing each with their own, a sign of complete submission and contrition to those that are of greater rank in their clan.

“Now, unless you are to tell us you have suddenly become attracted to a member of the family, Castiel, then I think you need to work on your public propriety. You are lucky the humans have no idea how to read the wings or you would be owing an apology to more than just the clan.” Naomi said, while wagging her finger, a thoroughly human expression that she must of picked up while studying their body language in order to be more relatable. 

She was quick to move on though, having said her peace she turned to make an exit, tossing over her shoulder “This better be the last of it, Castiel, so mark my words.” and marched away. Raphael stayed, an immovable object in both mass and spirit. 

“She doesn’t think outside the box, but I do.” Raphael said rather cryptically. 

Castiel inclined this head in question.

“You better not have fallen for the humans, Castiel. She doesn’t think it possible, frankly I can’t see how it is. They’re filthy apes. But I know you don’t have intentions for anyone in the clan. Nothing happens that I don’t know about, Castiel. After this display I’ll be watching you.” Raphael bore down on him with his large brown wings. 

He picked Castiel up by the arm and marched him out of the studio keeping a dominate wing pushed down over him as they re-joined the clan. The obvious sign of a bad scolding sent heat to Castiel’s cheeks and he was unable to meet anyones eye.

As soon as possible Castiel stole away to his apartment in the living quarters of Halo Emporium. His sanctuary away from the confusion of the world outside. The one place where he could stop worrying about how he was acting or what he was saying and doing. The space was sparsely furnished, a large mattress filled one corner dressed with pillows and comforters in different shades of blues. A single chair and small table in the opposite corner sat next to the small kitchenette and a door that led to the bathroom. One wall was taken up completely by a tinted glass window, which, when looked out of while laying on the bed you could see nothing of the city skyline and take in only the clouds and sky above.

This is where he found himself now, arranging the pillows to support his back while he stretched out his wings and curled around his favourite comforter. He watched the clouds drift by while he let his mind wander. 

Castiel saw the clouds turn into the beautiful down of white that adorns a newborn angels wings, he practically felt their softness caress his cheek as he nestled deeper into his pillows. He sighed contentedly and let himself be taken off into this fantasy. He felt strong fingers run through his feathers and tickle along his back followed by the same electric feel from earlier course over him. He closed his eyes to the light of the room and was met with a kaleidoscope of greens dancing patterns behind his eyelids. 

Castiel hadn’t felt so relaxed in such a long time and didn’t have the energy in him to get up again, instead just pulling the comforter over his fully clothed body and falling into a calm sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go!! Sorry this has taken me so long. good news it's 3k bad news it will be over a month before I get the next chapter up as I'm going to America for a month long fandom holiday ending in DC CON!!!
> 
> Anyho, as usual this is un-beta'd so i'm very sorry for mistakes. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

His phone was vibrating its way across the kitchen bench as Sam walked into his apartment. It was still early and his brow furrowed, “Who could that be?” he muttered as he made the quick dash to answer before it dropped out. No such luck, it stopped just as his hand touched the screen.

He swiped to check the caller ID and was confronted with 19 missed calls from his brother, Dean. 

“19? Jeez. What you got yourself into now?” Sam wondered aloud.

He quickly hit the call back button and was met with a frantic sounding Dean within seconds.

“Dean, man you gotta calm down, I can’t understand you.” Sam spoke into the receiver, while sporting bitch face number 8 the _‘what the heck is my brother on?’_ special.

“Feathers? Seriously, Dean, did you drink the kool aid?” Sam sighed, and scrubbed his face. It was entirely too early for this bullshit. 

Except Dean wasn’t stopping and he wasn’t calming down, in fact he was getting more and more worked up the longer Sam kept brushing him off. So far Sam had been able to discern the crisis had something to do with feathers, itchy bits, a whole lot of swearing about some angel being a dick and... _nests_? 

“Ok, Dean. Listen. I’m on my way, stay put and just,” Sam couldn’t work out what he needed to say to calm Dean down, “Just get in your nest and stay there.” 

_If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em_.

He didn’t bother changing out of his running gear, Dean could have him in all his ripe sweaty glory if he insisted on having a melt down at 6am. He grabbed his keys and wallet and was out the door in minutes. Sam considered laying a towel down on the leather seats of his new Charger, but could already hear his brother’s bitching about the car. _S’not like you wouldn’t protect the impala,_ Sam bitched in his imaginary conversation. _Oh for god’s sake let’s get this over with._ He thought as he slipped behind the wheel and peeled out of the parking bay.

He had his own key to Dean’s place, which he used now. The apartment was completely dark, the shades were drawn on the windows and nothing seemed to be out of place. It was also silent, not a peep could be heard. Sam shrugged and moved through the apartment and down the hall to Dean’s room. He knocked lightly on the door, which swung easily on the hinge at his touch. 

The room was as dark as the rest of the place, there was a gentle snore coming from the bed. _The bastard must have gone to sleep._ Sam switched the light on and was about to yell when the scene before him, now illuminated, stopped anything leaving his lips.

Dean was curled in on himself, wrapped around a pillow, _the one I use when I stay over?_ Sam thought idly. He was in the middle of what appeared to be every single pillow, blanket and fabric piece Dean owned. He had his nose buried into the pillow as he made slow circles with his thumb to the corner piping. All this alone would be enough to stop Sam, his brother being a man who regularly falls asleep on top of the covers, a one pillow and a firm right side sleeper… yeah this was weird. 

Sam’s mind was trying it’s hardest to ignore the fluffy white elephant in the room, but try as he might and after several forceful and deliberate blinks of his eyes later, yeah, they were still there. 

Wings...

Two white downy feathered wings were sprouted from his brothers back. They couldn’t have been bigger than dinner plates and looked like the fluffy wings of an adolescent duck. Dean sighed in his sleep, his brow furrowing as one wing stretched out slowly towards Sam, then retreated, to fold in close to Dean’s back.

“What the fuck!” Sam boomed. Dean stirred immediately, sleep mussed, his face still scrunched, he sat up to see his brother.

“Sammy, I was dreaming of you. You were anxious.” Dean said, somewhat cryptically.

“Dean, uh you doing ok buddy?” Sam stuttered out.

Dean looked at him, confusion written all over his face, he stretched his arms above his head and his wings, _his fucking wings!_ Followed suit. It was like a light bulb switched on, the change came over Dean so fast. He vaulted from his bed, arms twisting to try and reach the spot right below his scapular where the spectacular occurrence was, well, occuring.

“Holy shit, Sammy, what the fuck is happening to me?!” Dean’s face wore nothing but panic as he reached up to grab his brother by the shoulders and moved right into his personal space. “Sammy! I’m… I’m a fucking feather duster!” Dean’s face scrunched and broke as he fell to his knees in front of Sam, tears now reaching his eyes.

“Ok, look, ah... Are you in any pain?” Sam asked, pragmatic if nothing else.

“Pain?” Dean sobbed. “I have wings sprouting from my back, Sammy. This has gone way beyond pain!” Dean looked defeated. “It was that angel dick from the garage, he’s playing some sort of trick on me. It has to be. Who knows what those _things_ can do?” 

Dean was pacing the room now, as his distress turned to frustration, and rage his wings stretched and held high on his back. All Sam could do was watch as his brother worked himself up. Unfortunately due to the diminutive size of his fluffy whites, when Dean stood at certain angles it appeared to give Dean feathered bunny ears. 

_Oh god don’t laugh._

Sam kept his face straight and tried to think what the hell had happened here. “Who’s the dick angel anyway?” He asked.

Dean whipped around sending an old football trophy and several car magazine flying off a shelf with his unruly appendages. He scowled at the mess before striding over to Sam.

“The dick who made Charlie cry and _me_ lose my shit, that’s who. I don’t know his name, drove a shitty car and said I smelled different! Who even says that? It has to be him.” Dean said as he turned to pick up the mess on the floor, which resulted in Sam getting a mouth full of feathers.

“Look what if I give Bobby a call and see if we can get this angel’s number?” Sam was clutching at straws. “I mean it can’t hurt talking to one of them even if it isn’t his fault… right?” 

Dean stared daggers at his brother, but nodded then added, “Don’t tell Bobby about this,” He gestured awkwardly to his back, “Oh and can you call out of work for me too?” Dean looked like he was close to tears again, so Sam cut him some slack and agreed.

“Why don’t you have a lay down, I’ll call Bobby then fix you something to eat.” The tension automatically fell out of Dean’s shoulders and he moved to get into the middle of his pillow fort and wrapped himself around Sam’s pillow again. He was making contented sleep sounds before Sam walked out the room. Sam wasn’t even going to start on what the hell that meant, his brain was already in overdrive.

He settled into Dean’s couch after opening up the blinds and letting some light into the room. He had no idea what he was going to tell Bobby but there was no way round it, short of breaking into the shop and Sam was most definitely not going to do that.

The phone rung for a long while before Sam was greeted with, “This better be a fucking emergency or I’ll.” Sam cut him off quickly “Bobby, it’s Sam.”

“I know who it is. I may be old but I do know how to read caller ID. My threat still stands, what you calling this early for?” 

“Sorry, Bobby. Look i’m at Dean’s.” Sam sighed and wracked his brain for what to say. “He’s not in a good way and… well I need some information from you, and I need you not to ask any questions ,and I promise when I can tell you I will but right now I just need you to trust me.” The words flew out of his mouth, then the silence on the other line stretched and he started to wonder if he should add something or…

“Alright, what d’you need?” The reply was gruff and short.

“The contact info on that angel that caused the trouble at the shop.” Sam sucked in a breath.

“I am going to be pissed if this ends with the police knocking on my door, you hear me, son?” Bobby replied.

“Yeah, Bobby. I understand… and thanks.” Sam jotted down the info Bobby gave him and said his goodbyes.

He went to check on Dean, who was still asleep and somehow even more buried into his _nest_. His wing stretched out to him again as if in greeting before relaxing once more. Sam pulled the door over and went to the kitchen to see what he could make for breakfast.

He let his brother sleep while he ate a bowl of cereal and loaded up Dean’s laptop to see if he could find anything like this happening before. The articles on Angels ranged from the sensational to the scientific, however when it came to turning into one or at the very least growing wings, well, Sam had worried he’d wandered into the seedy side of the internet. Theories were almost mythical in their absurdity, people thinking they could be “turned” like a vampire with a bite or other’s believing that an angel’s seman when smeared over you on the right moon… Yeah Sam realised he wasn’t going to find the answer here.

Dean still slept, and since Sam didn’t have anything new to tell him, he figured he was better off leaving him be. He’d called into his own work and let them know he wouldn’t be in. He didn’t even feel like he was lying when he said it was a family emergency. So when he looked at the clock and it was 10.30am he decided it was now or never.

He dialed the angel’s number and stood up, he felt better prepared on his feet. The phone rang twice when a curt british accented voice answered the line. 

“Hello, Mr Milton. Ah. My name is Sam Winchester, you don’t know me but I believe you know my brother, Dean.” Sam started.

“I have no idea who either of you are. What do you want? Time is money and you can’t afford me.” Mr Milton replied.

Sam was somewhat stunned at this, and mentally agreeing with his brother’s choice of words for describing the angel. “Yes, I’m sorry. You see, you met my brother while having your car fixed, and…” 

“That asshole. Ha! You tell him he will be hearing from my lawyer anytime now. That’s all I have to say about it. Good day.” Mr Milton cut Sam off and promptly hung up the phone.

Sam just stared at the screen as the dial tone rang out. _Well that could have gone better._ He thought. They were going to have to go the more forceful route if Sam was going to get this angel dick to talk to them. Good thing Bobby gave him the guys address too.

Sam was just checking out the directions on google maps when Dean came into the room. Dean looked terrible, he had a pillow under one arm and a pink flower throw that Sam thought might have been their mothers, wrapped around his shoulders. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat and his skin was ashen in colour. 

“Hey, man.” Sam asked lamely. “Feeling ok?”

Dean just mumbled something inaudible as he wandered into the living room and curled himself into a ball on the sofa, laying his head in his brother's lap. “I missed you.” Dean mumbled from under his blanket. His wings reached up, the very tops of the arches touching Sam’s face. He was pretty sure they’d grown. Sam’s hand naturally fell to stroke over Dean’s head. 

He’d never seen his brother like this, Dean didn’t do sick. He didn’t even do sick days. He was the caregiver not the patient and Sam was really starting to worry. 

“Alright, Dean. We’ve got to get you up.” Sam ordered as he gave Dean’s shoulder a little shake.

Dean just tried to bury deeper into Sam’s lap while clutching onto his leg.

“No dude, we are going to get you better. Ok up now.” He spoke the last part with as much authority as he could muster and was met with a cranky yet compliant looking Dean. He slowly got to his feet although it appeared he was in a bit of pain so Sam helped him back to his room and tried to find something for Dean to wear.

All things considered, Sam really shouldn’t have been trying to hold in a fit of giggles, except, call it stress if you like, that’s what was happening and he was pretty sure Dean knew too.

Dean was dressed in tracksuit pants, trucker hat, dark sunglasses and… a poncho. A bright orange, green and red mexican themed poncho. It was all Sam could find that fit over the wings and did anything to cover them. 

Sam was walked out beside him, making sure Dean didn’t fall over and also watching out for anyone that might see them as he was leading them to the carpark. Dean didn’t even complain when Sam suggested he lay down in the back, and instantly bundled up the discarded towel from earlier into a pillow and made himself comfortable.

\----

The angel’s house was set back from the road, a two story manor with imposing double oak doors. Sam considered leaving Dean in the car before realising if this was going to work he needed Dean to bring home the importance of them being there.

He dragged Dean from the car, unable to relinquish his grip on the towel. Sam shrugged _whatever gets him to the door._

So there they stood a -man in his running gear and a dude in a poncho- on the doorstep of an asshole angel in the rich part of town. Sam was really hoping now that he could keep his promise to Bobby and not end up in a police car.

He rang the bell then knocked at the door for emphasis. They waited as Dean tried to snuggle closer to his brother a small whimper escaping when Sam brushed him off and stood up straight.

The door was pulled open and Sam was met with a cocky looking man with blonde hair and tawny wings. He took one look at Dean and said “You!” Dean had stiffened beside him looking to Sam then the angel and said “You!”

“You're the one that called me I supposed.” He gestured to Sam. “You better get off my property or I'm calling the police.” The angel ordered.

Dean immediately turned to leave catching Sam off guard and left him grappling with his arm to make him stay put. The angel was giving them a strange look. 

“Sorry i wouldn't be here if it wasn't important.” Sam pleaded. The angel crossed his arms but didn't slam the door in their face, so he continued tentatively. “You know Dean, and I think you know something's up with him. Look you're the only angel we know and please we need help.” Sam manhandled Dean around and lifted the poncho to reveal the tips of his ever growing wings.

“That's most unprecedented.” The angel said, something akin to mischief sparkling in his eyes. “S’pose you better come in.” He said and pulled the doors open and walk into the house.

Sam followed, pulling Dean along. They walked down the cavernous hall, through a large arch and into an incredibly comfortable looking lounge room. There were pillows and futons as well as a deep set sofa; all in luscious touchable fabrics. 

“When you stop gawking you can take a seat.” The angel said. 

Dean sat down immediately, perching himself on the edge of the sofa. Sam cleared his throat embarrassment shading his cheeks and sat next to Dean. 

“Sorry, Mr Milton. I've never been in... ah…”

“An angel's house? Yes, yes it's bigger on the inside. Now call me Balthazar please. I absolutely loathe these niceties that coming to cohabit with you humans has demanded of us.” 

“Thank you, Balthazar. I hate to cut to the chase but I need to ask. Do you know what's happening to my brother?” Sam pleaded, as he helped Dean remove his poncho and reveal the wings that were now brushing the waistband of his pants. Dean seemed in a daze and did nothing but grumble at the change in temperature. His skin glistened with sweat yet a shiver overcame him. “When my brother was more coherent he seemed to believe you had done this to him as some sort of revenge?”

Balthazar laughed hard. “Firstly, there is no way i’d ever want to turn a human into an angel. I’m not even going to go into how impossible that would be. I can’t even fathom how this...:” He gestured to Dean, “Happened. I _can_ tell you that it’s an abomination and absolutely unheard of.” Balthazar huffed, his wings shaking loose like a person dusting their hands of the situation.

“Dean, darling make yourself comfortable, will you.” Balthazar said offhandedly. “Damn boy looks like a statue perched there.” he laughed.

Dean stretched out his wings and reclined into a pile of overfilled cushions and lay his wings out flat on top. 

Balthazar smirked again and said, “Go figure... “ 

Right now Sam was about 10 kinds of confused and with nothing solid to latch onto he demanded, “What the hell is going on with you and my brother? You don’t think I haven’t noticed?” He stood up and started pacing while waving his hands around, “You say jump and he… well… he jumps… He was doing the same thing with me back at his place in his goddamn nest. What the heck, man?” 

Balthazar’s laugh was back and it took him a moment to compose himself. “You see, Sam, your brother here, through some crazy twisted set of unfathomable circumstances has gone and got himself into this mess. And what’s this mess you ask, dear human? Well, he seems to be in what we like to call the pre-mating phase of a soul bond.” Sam just stared at the angel and his self satisfied faced. “And here’s the best bit... your brother is turning into what you’d refer to as the fairer sex, the little spoon, the ball and chain. You’re brother is an omega.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments fuel me! Please let me know what you think or just flail at me! any and all words are super appreciated!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://whataboutthefish.tumblr.com/) [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WhatFishie) and come say Hi!


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